


The cries of whales

by GazeOceania



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire, Game of Thrones(TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-17
Updated: 2018-03-17
Packaged: 2019-04-01 13:10:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,880
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13999047
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GazeOceania/pseuds/GazeOceania
Summary: Cersei, joy. At the ancient time these two equaled, but then they grew older and the connection broke down.





	The cries of whales

**Author's Note:**

> This is the first work I've made. Actually this is a translation version of my own work about the golden twins.  
> Still an English learner now so I cannot be sure that there are no grammar mistakes in my work. There may be many, but I was trying to avoid.  
> I would be very thankful for any comments and kudos made for this fic.  
> Jaime and Cersei and other asoiaf characters belong to George R.R. Martin.  
> WARNING: here may be a line with dirty words.

　　Jaime Lannister sat on the piano stool with fingers fiddling with the keys casually. Those mussy clusters, containing a downhearted tone, seemed like the joint his sword missed or the arrow failed to target. The orchestra leaved this room after the last rehearsal. Cersei even expelled the violinist who tried to stay to check the last program. She sat beside Jaime with a gaze at the piano.  
　　“You are not the Conductor,” she said to that violinist.  
　　And that happened half an hour ago. The rehearsal room was too narrow, thought Jaime, he never thought in that way, but he cannot bear this dull silence at this moment. His messy playing did no good for breaking ice. It was the cries of whale with different frequency, complicated as furious Cersei.  
　　“You stop, or I leave.” It was Cersei who broke the silence. She always be the controller and terminator in this manner of angry silence.  
　　Jaime wanted to shout at her, whereas he sighed instead. It was the wisest dealing way. This kind of light-like-feather sigh was left in their home, in the amusement park, in Father’s car, and onto that piano. Cersei always acted like she was on edge when facing the forthcoming performance. Her emerald-like eyes never seemed to be a mild and watery stream.  
　　“Which part do you dislike?” he asked, “if you could tell me half an hour ago, I were practicing fencing now.”  
　　Cersei walked near, lifting her hemline perhaps, and brought a sneeze. “Damned the bloody fencing! Performance, Jaime! Have you ever considered how critical is it?”  
　　“But I did consider that how much effort you may gain with wandering around!”Jaime shouted back, failed to control his temper. He turned back to look at her, “Aerys is about to come, so what? You can engage to his son whatever you play!”  
　　Tearing the disguise into pieces is the finest thing in the world. Jaime, filling with anger, was ready to stare back with all his rage. However the Cersei he met was a weeping one. She frowned with eyes looking upon, as she tried to get back all her tear. That green eyes now flew the mild spring stream. She shed while Jaime sensed one drop with a shiver. He peered at that eyes like he was staring at a mirror. Fury, anxiousness, sadness…sadness?  
　　No. The broken ice in that stream is nothing like sadness but fear. The melting fear, Winter’s fear to the Spring, the fear of his forthcoming loss. He almost considered that eyes belonged to him, not his sibling.  
　　Cersei was unwilling to allow him to stare at her eyes. She fled with clatter like a bad song. She turned around but Jaime held her in his arms. He embraced her waist as what he did at an early age, with nose buried into Cersei’s blonde hair. There remains a strange but familiar aroma- the orange blossom. How sweet, how pure, just like Cersei used to be. She adored orange most when they were young. Every time she cut it by herself, the juice flew through the cover, spread a mist and landed on her fingers. Then these twins bit the summer’s taste, so sour, yet so sweet. She haven’t used orange blossom shampoo for a long time, perhaps this newly aroma resulted from the hotel’s offer or Cersei’s new favor. He knew all of it- in the past.  
　　“No.” She sobbed, and tears reshaped her feminity, “Hush, promise me.”  
　　Jaime nodded. He promised he would never mention this Aery-ish thing again, not anymore, forever no, even after a thousand birds planish a mountain named Eternity. He held her hands, took out the cold wine glass. Her fingertips were cold, since the wine was cold and she have held it for too long. At this moment she controlled the intake of alcohol. None of them ever imagined that Cersei will be an alcoholic, glass after glass, the wine ran like a river in her throat. They will never consider about the future. The present Cersei remained her pure characteristic which only led her to the love of cold temperature and aroma. There will be many more days to come.  
　　“There will be many more days to come.” She said, “let’s play.”  
　　She escaped from his hug. With red eyes she wiped her tear. Her blonde long hair shivered and dropped on her back and shoulder. Cersei’s hair was too thick and too tricky, just like her destiny which he cannot hold.  
　　These two sat down again, played the last song for the last time before performance. Cersei Lannister always be the leading role in the piano duet, and her brother was only a supporting one. Of course the fille audiences don’t think like that, but it is what it is in the marriage. Targaryan and Lannister, play a piano together, play a duet well.  
　　Cersei’s focus only appeared at that exact moment, Jaime thought when he glared at the shadow on the piano. She listened to Father’s words about legacy, she played the piano, she performed, these moments created this kind of Cersei. Her jaw was down, her gaze was down, her blonde fragrant hair behind her ears, they will cover her face with her emotion down and rise. While the song became powerful, her blonde hair strands fell onto her shoulder. She even didn’t need the earring to emphasize her beautiful gaze, because her floating blonde hair was enough.  
　　She touched the piano like she touched her lover. Jaime moved his eyes both to play every musical note and a good accompany. The climax came all the same. During this slow process her eyes moved between the piano and the musical score, her fingers flied. The musical sound from each one of them melted and compounded into one. Whether Cersei was smiling or not, it was enough to fulfill her proud and picky inner self. Her breath silk-like. There always have someone to comment that the cello in the orchestra sounds like a breath of the music itself, but Cersei now became the most silent heartbeat, growing strongly in the end as if it was from a hibernate lion. Every creature, living or dead, bent its knees to that lion.  
　　Hear me ROAR. Cersei enjoyed the feeling of controlling everything just like her father. When everything tried to escape from her palm, she could hold them tenderly and killed each endeavor of rebel. If a song can hold the destiny, she’ll practise it for day and night. She must marry to Rhaegar but not the king that in the old foreign creature’s prophecy.  
　　If only could she married with Rhaegar—  
　　Her heart beat. Bump, bump, bump bump bump. The song rose for her to splash her noisy thought. Her fingers crushed the piano like dancing on Destiny. She never meant to be a good dancer, but she tried her best. Jaime was turning a page, so light, so crisp. Her thought evolved on that fragile sound.  
　　Jaime, Jaime, how I wish to be you.  
　　Cersei rested her wrist to let Jaime to ride. They pushed different key on the same part, cries of the wale alike. His palm was very warm, covered her cool hand. She thought, no, but it has to be him. Only them could linger, only they could be together. That warm hand left her whatsoever, her hand turned cold again, they continued their lingering melody.  
　　Jaime was playing staccato well as her. His right hand that used for bowing or fencing danced and plunged. Cersei considered it a soft kiss which didn’t belong to Jaime: too sweet, too startled, and too gentle. With their different tone of thought, the melody drove smoothly until it reached the terminal.  
　　This was the most lingering melody they ever played and never played again.  
　　The real performance took place, which needed a restrain and rational playing. The ones who used to share the same piano stool now seated apart. Jaime was higher than his sister and wasn’t allowed to yield to Cersei. Aerys appeared as her wish, he knew Cersei was glaring at him behind the scene.  
　　The hostess outside was saying that everyone appreciated the very performance from the String. And these two just finished a kiss under Cersei’s order.  
　　“I am so nervous.” She gasped, drawing a hair from the face. Her lips contained an unnatrual thrill as though she had been performed well and numerously. These unknown scarlet corner was in her favor- full of safe mysteries, when Jaime murmured “it is not right” and kissed her unawarely.  
　　As to Jaime, his memory was full of Cersei. Now her face overlapped the former and sweeter Cersei. Her cheek was rosy. Perhaps it was because of the kiss, or that is just making-up. Jaime turned his face anyway to calm himself down, trying not to think about her cheek or lips: “Remember what father said?”  
　　“The lion didn’t care about what the sheep said.” She said in a lower voice. “I say he will be the Prime Minister.” This idea comforted her. She looked at Jaime’s face. And he makes you taste the power.  
　　Jaime absolutely failed to concern the sourness in Cersei’s tone. She might hide it well, or he just simply don’t care about. The hostess called up their name. He grabbed her hand immediately, “it is time.”  
　　When their fingertips felt each other, Cersei let him hold it. Jaime glanced at her and checked their backs, then smiled. They walked to that stage which was illuminated by the beam side by side. They bowed to greet, then stood up straight with the similar smile on similar faces. Rhaegar wasn’t there sitting with Aerys. Cersei must be disappointed, thought Jaime with a lost joy.  
　　Cersei, joy. At the ancient time these two equaled, but then they grew older and the connection broke down. He turned his head in order to see Cersei. Her patting eyelash, her emerald pupils, her golden glittering hair, her eyebrow which raised only one side, and the angle her lips curled. She was there, beside him, breathing, smiling, her warmth near to touch. This imposing and strangely gentle Cersei made him no refusal.  
　　The applaud died down, the melody started. Jaime gathered his lost thought and accompanied Cersei’s rhythm. The beginning was leisure, quiet as a riddle, as Cersei’s childhood- their childhood. She woke up from a nap, sitting their combing. Her fingertips slowly touched her hair, let the jumbled be the quiet. A plait was formed when he woke up too. Now he was just fiddled some easy-made sound, exactly the one little boy looking at the mirror when Cersei was there to comb. Now her fingertips no longer played with the plait but the keys. She pushed down when he ran away. Jaime turned the pages as usual. The tadpole-like’s musical notes were shaped into the real twist and turn.  
　　Now a part came, silently. In this flowing fiddle, Cersei turned the page for him. That fragile sound melted in Jaime’s sound. He looked at her, and there was joviality in her gaze that only he can read. They’ve been rejoice for this secretive coordination and understanding for a long while, just like this melody, smooth as silk.


End file.
